A Rich Mongrel Is Still A Mongrel Poem by John Fenton Mcleish

Arabs take our lands the Jews take theirs
No one knows if they're coming or going
Its just like a game of musical chairs
Seems the whole world is tooing and froing

Who's in charge of this Looney asylum
And does anybody really care
Drifting around like flotsum and jetsum
But ultimately heading nowhere

Not much time now before Armageddon
Its impossible to turn back the tide
Rich families in new York and London
Did create this bloody mess in their stride

How will we ever travel to the stars
When all we seem to do is create wars
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// this poem may contain copying errors